


party of five

by wentz



Series: bear family [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M, Qian Kun is Liu Yang Yang's Parent, Qian Kun is Zhong Chenle's Parent, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Suh Youngho | Johnny is Lee Donghyuck | Haechan's Parent, Teacher Suh Youngho | Johnny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wentz/pseuds/wentz
Summary: Johnny teaches ESL at the elementary school. He loves his kids and his job but he's pretty sure it's kind of unprofessional to be this totally head over heels with his students' dad.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Series: bear family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961584
Comments: 39
Kudos: 281





	1. love at first sight (or should i walk by again?)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! yes! i am finally importing this fic from twitter to give it a permanent home on ao3!!! don't worry about plagiarism, because the original twitter thread was written by me, hehe. 
> 
> if for some reason you want to read this on twitter in its original format, you can find the thread [here](https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1197946276450623488?s=20).
> 
> special thanks to twitter user dreamingngng for transcribing the tweet thread for me so that i could copy-paste it into google docs for editing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny turns back around, twisting the rearview mirror so he can check his own reflection. "Be sweet to Yangyang and Chenle and I'll be sweet to Yangyang's daddy and we'll all be good friends."
> 
> "You don't need any more friends," Hyuck complains. "Just us boys, Daddy."
> 
> "Yeah, well…” Johnny tilts the mirror to peek back at his son. “There's nothing wrong with adding a few new boys to the mix, right?"

He's never gonna forget the first time he met Yangyang and Chenle's dad.

Parent-teacher conference season is always busy for Johnny. He's the only ESL teacher for the entire school (fucking shoestring budget) and a lot of his kids' parents speak nominal English, or none at all. It falls upon his shoulders to not only conduct his own meetings but also to sit in as translator on everyone _else_ ’s meetings. He doesn't mind; he loves his job and it's important to do his due diligence for his students' families. Still, he makes the most of his breaks.

It's on one such break—shoes off, facedown on the fuzzy carpet behind his desk, Sufjan Stevens playing on repeat on his desktop, overworked Keurig grinding out yet another cup of sickly-weak coffee—when Mr Qian first knocks on his classroom door. Johnny assumes it's Miss Holland from down the hall (again), come to borrow his Keurig (again), and doesn't bother lifting his head from the carpet to grumble, "If I start running now, do you think I can make it to the district zoning line before the principal notices I'm gone?" 

There's a low hum from the door—a distinctly _masculine_ hum that makes panic flash-freeze Johnny's spinal cord—and then: "Depends on how fast you can run in socks."

Johnny turns his face downwards into his rug and contemplates the merits and pitfalls of asphyxiation by shag carpet for a moment before climbing to his knees as gracefully as he can in order to peek over the desk.

Oh no. He's _hot_.

"He's not tall but at the same time he's definitely seven feet tall," Johnny would explain to Taeyong later. "Does that make sense?"

Kun Qian stands in Johnny’s doorway in a full suit, jacket draped casually over one elbow, hands in his pockets as he looks at Johnny looking at him. In the silence that follows, Sufjan warbles about Manelich checking his texts while he masturbates. Johnny clears his throat and slaps the space bar to pause the music as he stands up.

“Hi. I'm Mr Suh. Uh, Johnny. Suh." He can't fully hide his grin as he extends his hand to shake. 

The man crosses the room to accept the handshake. "I'm Yangyang and Chenle's father."

Johnny gasps in delight before remembering to reign it in. "Oh, Mr Qian! I love your boys, they're so much fun!" he chatters in Mandarin. 

Mr Qian raises his eyebrows. "Not too much of a distraction, I hope."

Johnny wonders when he's gonna get around to taking his own fucking foot out of his mouth. "No, of course not. I mean, sometimes. But I kind of like it." Mr Qian's eyes narrow a fraction. Johnny inwardly longs for death, preferably by Mr Qian's shoe. "Anyways," he laughs, just a little bit too loudly. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Awesome." Johnny hasn't bumbled this much around a cute boy since he was in fucking high school. Miraculously, he makes it through both Chenle and Yangyang's assessments with a modicum of professionalism. Mr Qian isn't unkind, just very serious about the welfare of his kids, like most of the parents to whom Johnny speaks. Warmth replaces the coolness of his chic businessman image when Mr Qian talks about his sons. Not even the sharp, clean lines of his suit can hide the soft curves of his features: the tip of his nose, his gently arched brows, the upwards turn of his lips, his graceful fingers. Johnny knows he's already fucked when he gets caught up daydreaming about the mole above Mr Qian's eyelid and misses whatever question he's just been asked about his students.

"Uh," he says, trying to pull his thoughts away from the imaginary plant-filled house in suburbia he's begun to decorate with his things.

The corner of Mr Qian's mouth twitches like he's trying either not to laugh or frown. "Are they adjusting well? Do you think they'll catch up soon?" 

"Oh!" Johnny glances down at his reports for both of the boys. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mr Qian. Your sons get along incredibly well with their peers even with limited English. You'd be surprised how quickly kids find ways to communicate with one another.” 

Mr Qian worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. "I worry about Chenle. He's so shy."

Johnny snorts, startling Mr Qian in his seat across the desk. "Don't take this the wrong way, Mr Qian, but Chenle never fu– …Uh, is a very sociable child." 

A strange look plays around the borders of Mr Qian's face. "And Yangyang? Is he… sociable in your class?"

A flashback of Yangyang proudly showing his drawing of Johnny being run over by a car to the class during their transportation unit plays in the back of Johnny's head. "Yangyang is an incredibly bright boy," Johnny assures him, smiling. "Both of your sons are."

Mr Qian finally smiles back and it's fucking sunshine and rainbows and puppy dog tails and— "Yangyang hates your class." —pestilence and plague and rain clouds and black umbrellas and— "I know he can be a real little shit sometimes," Mr Qian admits with a sheepish shrug. "I'm sorry if he's given you a hard time. He still misses home. The move has been harder on him… I think part of it is he remembers that life a little better than Lele does." 

Johnny's soft chicken tender heart wilts a little bit. "Yeah," he sighs. "That tends to be the case with the older kids."

Mr Qian toys with the corner of Yangyang's report card. "It's been hard for him to make friends, too. He had a whole gang of little friends back home." 

And let it be known that Johnny is 1) soft as fuck and 2) a Fixer™️, and therefore really can't be held responsible for the ramifications of what he does next.

"My son Donghyuck speaks some Mandarin," he says. "We live a district over. Maybe we could set up a playdate?"

Mr Qian quirks an eyebrow and looks at Johnny like he's never seen anything quite like him (which, considering the state he'd been in when Mr Qian arrived, might be a fair assessment). Johnny's ears go hot and he's about to gracefully rescind his offer when Mr Qian says, "Okay."

And really, that was the beginning of the end for Johnny.

(Actually, the REAL beginning of the end was when Mr Qian asked if he or his wife would be dropping off Donghyuck and Johnny blurted out, "I'm single," to which Mr Qian simply raised those perfect, infuriating eyebrows.)

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Johnny throws the car into park and twists around in his seat to look Donghyuck in the eye one last time.

"Mission statement?" he asks.

Hyuck whines. "Da-a-ad, I already said it so many times!"

"Just once more for me." 

Hyuck sighs, incredibly put-upon. "Be sweet an' play right."

"Good." Johnny turns back around, twisting the rearview mirror so he can check his own reflection. "Be sweet to Yangyang and Chenle and I'll be sweet to Yangyang's daddy and we'll all be good friends."

"You don't need any more friends," Hyuck complains. "Just us boys, Daddy."

"Yeah, well…” Johnny tilts the mirror to peek back at his son. “There's nothing wrong with adding a few new boys to the mix, right?"

Donghyuck pooches out his bottom lip in contemplation but doesn't protest further. Johnny decides to accept it for the half-win that it is. 

They walk to the playground hand in hand (upon Johnny's insistence; Hyuck was a wanderer as a toddler and Johnny hasn't gotten over the trauma of losing him in IKEA). He's glad to have something to hold onto when his stupid, gay heart trips over itself upon catching sight of Mr Qian.

He's totally playdate casual: t-shirt, hoodie, black jeans, hair falling into his face as he bends down to tie Chenle's shoe. The sun highlights his profile and sets butterflies aflutter in Johnny's stomach.

Donghyuck tugs on Johnny's hand. "Why're we stopped, Daddy?" 

"Just looking, Hyuckie." 

"At what?"

Johnny shrugs. "It's called sightseeing, dude. You see something pretty, you stop to look. It's, like, life's simple pleasures, you know?"

"Oh." A few seconds pass, and then Hyuck yanks on his hand again. "This is boring."

" _I'm_ not bored," Johnny insists. "Maybe it's because you're young. Your palate is still unrefined."

"Hmm." Donghyuck narrows his eyes appraisingly. "No. I'm bored."

"You drive a hard bargain, kid." Johnny nudges Hyuck forward. "Let's go say hi."

As they approach Mr Qian and Chenle, Johnny draws Hyuck in front of him. He's not ashamed to use his son as a human shield.

"Hi," he says. 

Mr Qian looks up from Chenle's shoe and smiles and—oh, fuck, Johnny hears motherfucking _violins_.

"Hi, Johnny."

It's cheesy as shit but Johnny's never loved his own name more than he loves it coming out of Mr Qian's mouth. "Hi," he repeats, dazed. He puts a hand on Donghyuck's hair. "Say hi, Hyuckie."

Donghyuck leans back against Johnny's legs, pulling his hand around to cling to. "Hi."

Chenle stamps his foot a few times, testing out the newly tied laces and showing off the light-up basketballs on the side. "My shoes sparkle," he informs Donghyuck. "Look."

Donghyuck watches politely. Even Johnny has to admit it's pretty cool.

"Is Yangyang here?" Johnny asks. Mr Qian nods in the direction of the monkey bars, where Yangyang is dangling upside down, stuck halfway through trying to complete a flip on the low bar.

"He got bored waiting," Mr Qian sighs. "Yangyang! Yangyang, get down, Mr Suh is here!" The kid tumbles to the ground in a heap, only to bounce back up and run over.

"Damn," Johnny mutters without thinking.

"Kids, right?" Mr Qian laughs but the back of his neck is flushed pink. "They're like rubber."

"Uh…” Johnny thinks about when Hyuck broke his leg. "Yeah." 

Yangyang joins their group in a flurry of gangly limbs and immediately clocks the newcomer. "Who are you?" he demands in Mandarin.

"Yangyang," Mr Qian says sternly. "Don't be rude."

"Sorry." One sticky hand juts out towards Hyuck. “‘M Yangyang."

"I'm Donghyuck." 

The first grader looks Donghyuck up and down and then shrugs. "You wanna play monkey bars?"

Hyuckie shrugs right back. "Okay." And just like that, their sons are gone, tumbling one after the other across the playground with Chenle trailing in their wake. 

With no more kid to keep his hands full, Johnny's palms suddenly go sweaty. He watches Mr Qian as subtly as he can from the corner of his eye. The man is so handsome it physically hurts. Johnny's stomach aches every time he catches sight of the way the sun highlights Mr Qian's lashes. 

"So, uh." Johnny watches Yangyang use his feet to push at Donghyuck as they race across the monkey bars. "How, uh—" Fuck. FUCK. Where did all of Johnny's _game_ go?!

A touch at Johnny's wrist makes his heart jump in his chest. "Hey," Kun says. "Do you want a Go-Go Squeez?" 

He blinks. “Uh, sure.”

Mr Qian leads Johnny to a bench in the shade of a big tree. A small cooler, an outdoor blanket, and a backpack mark the spot as the Qians'. As they settle on the blanket, Mr Qian fishes two applesauce pouches out of the cooler. He passes one to Johnny and they clink the pouches like fancy whiskeys. If Johnny had known that Mr Qian is, like, the god of playdates maybe he would've at least brought a Ziploc baggie full of almonds or something. He's feeling thoroughly shown up.

They sip their GoGo Squeez in silence. Johnny desperately tries to think of something to say. In the end, it’s Mr Qian who speaks up first.

"Thank you for doing this," he says, looking down at his applesauce. "I know it's unorthodox. Um…” His teeth leave tiny dents in his bottom lip. Johnny resolutely ignores the desire to kiss it. "It's hard to make friends when everyone you meet is your employee." Mr Qian laughs a little bit, blushing a brighter shade of rose. "I guess Yangyang and Chenle aren't the only ones having trouble adjusting to the move." He meets Johnny's eyes and—not for the first time—Johnny sees how Kun's sons take after their father.

God. He's so weak for big brown eyes.

Johnny nods slowly. "I… am an ESL teacher. I'm barely the boss of the kids I teach. But I understand in theory."

It's a dumb joke. Mr Qian still laughs. It makes Johnny's chest feel weird and tickly. "Mr Qian, if you don't mind me saying—" 

"Kun." 

Johnny looks up from his GoGo Squeez. Mr Qian meets his eyes, a small smile playing around his lips. "My name is Kun."

"Kun." Johnny's brain short circuits as it attempts to run through every possible combination of their names. "Uh, Kun. If you don't mind me saying, I think you're doing a fine job of making friends. To me, anyways. And… for what it's worth, you're raising some really great kids."

Kun sighs. "I hope so."

"Are you kidding?!" Johnny exclaims. "You're, like, Super Dad!" 

Those accursed, perfect eyebrows—Johnny's newfound archnemeses—raise. "Super Dad?"

"Yeah!" Johnny splutters. "You brought a whole cooler of healthy snacks! You're so put together! Your kids have lace-up shoes instead of velcro! You're all I’ve ever wanted! Y'know, to, like, be!" 

_Nice save, Suh._

Kun shakes his head. "Your son is trilingual," Kun points out. ( _Hell yeah, he is_. Johnny's daddy pride purrs.) "Mine are barely getting by in school."

"Soon yours will be trilingual, too," Johnny reminds Kun, knocking their knees together gently. "If I do my job right, anyways." 

A smile, slow and sweet, spreads across Kun's face but it's different this time. In the same way that the light looks different at golden hour, or water tastes fresher in the mountains, or the moon looks bigger when it's close to horizon, Kun's smile looks different when it's meant for Johnny. It's so goddamn lovely that Johnny's breath catches in the shallow space just above his sternum and stays there, being pummeled by the heavy beat of his heart.

 _Ah, yes_ , he thinks. _That's what that feels like. I remember now_.

"So," he croaks. "What do you do for work, Kun?" 

As far as 'distractions to keep your crush from noticing you're falling for his big brown eyes' go, it's one of Johnny's more successful ones. Kun launches into an explanation of his job that goes into just enough detail to be interesting without erring into dullness.

Actually, for an office worker, Kun's job is kind of… cool. Johnny's never met anyone in the aerospace engineering field. It's, like, the closest thing to an astronaut that he'll ever meet, which is pretty dope.

God, Johnny feels like a teenager going all moony-eyed over a boy. He gets so sucked in to the whole 'chin in hand, fluttering eyelashes, that's _sooooo_ interesting' routine that he totally forgets about the three small humans whose well-being and livelihood they are supposed to be responsible for. It takes him a full minute to notice the wailing sound coming from the big toy and another forty-five seconds to place it as the sound of a kid crying.

Dread washes over him. He tears his attention away from Kun to locate the source of the tears and finds Chenle, sitting on his butt in the pea gravel with tears streaming freely down both beet-red cheeks. A few feet away, Yangyang and Donghyuck squabble loudly, sparring with one another using open-handed baby slaps. The cumulative power of the three kids' voices could wake the dead.

Fuck. 

He and Kun move off the bench and start half-jogging towards their sons with all the unification and grace of synchronised dad divers. "Oh my god, Kun, I'm so sorry— he's a good boy, I promise, I'm so sorry,” babbles Johnny, but Kun's focus is, understandably, elsewhere. 

As they reach the tangle of brawling seven-year-olds, Johnny reaches in blind and resurfaces with his spawn's arm in hand. He hauls Donghyuck into the air with one hand, turning to one side so no one gets caught in the crossfire of the boy’s last-ditch efforts to kick free of his grasp. “Dude, what is your _deal_?" Johnny demands in his best stern voice. "Chill out, man, this is totally _not_ my idea of being sweet and playing right."

"Make _him_ play right, Daddy!" Donghyuck cries, voice hitting new levels of shrill. "I'm tryin' t' play right but he won't play right!" 

Johnny traps Donghyuck against his chest with an arm around the boy's middle, taking the brunt of his kicking against his own thighs. _Will my labor never cease_? he wonders in vain. "Donghyuck, you have to calm down."

He glances over his shoulder at Kun managing his own kids. Kun kneels in the pea gravel with a still-weeping Chenle in his lap, tucked up under his chin. Meanwhile, Yangyang babbles to his father in distressed Mandarin. Every now and then the boy gestures wildly back in Donghyuck's direction. His words are packed too fast and tight into one another for Johnny to decipher them but Kun listens with an expression of utmost seriousness.

Johnny, still wrestling to keep Hyuck restrained, is suddenly cripplingly aware of the vast difference between their two families. "I'm so sorry," he says again, raising his voice above the cacophony of their children. "Kun, I'm really— I'm really sorry."

Distracted, Kun half glances away from Yangyang to look at Johnny. "It's okay, I—"

"Baba!" Yangyang whines. "It wasn't my fault! It wasn't my fault!" The little boy's eyes fill with tears as he tugs on the collar of Kun's hoodie. "I didn't do it!" he insists again.

Kun looks up at Johnny and offers an embarrassed half smile as a peace offering. "I think maybe it's time for us to go home." 

Cool, okay, well. "Donghyuck," Johnny says, squeezing his kid around the waist. "Let's calm down so we can apologise to Yangyang, Chenle, and Mr Qian."

The a-word makes Hyuck, whose hollering had just begun to subside, start to pitch a fit all over again. "No!" he shrieks. 

Kun huffs a little non-laugh and shrugs. He takes a hold of the back of Yangyang's shirt and steers him towards their blanket in the opposite direction of Donghyuck and Johnny. "We'd better just head home." An abashed little smile tilts Kun's mouth sideways. "See you at school." 

Johnny watches them go and rests his forehead against the back of Donghyuck's head in defeat. _Awesome. Great first date._

Playdate, that is. Great first playdate. You know, for Yangyang and Donghyuck.

So, whatever. Johnny's one true love is incompatible with his life because their goblin children whom they love more than anything else in the world can't stand one another. It's cool, whatever. Could be worse. Could be raining. All in all, this is, like, low tier tragedy. 

A few days pass. Chenle seems totally unfazed by the events of the weekend: he comes to Johnny's class and acts like his usual perfect, amazing, Chenle self. Yangyang, on the other hand, is a little wary of him, which is a shame since it feels like undoing progress. 

Johnny is filling in on pick-up duty for one of the kindergarten teachers when he hears Chenle's voice rise, high and clear, above the clamour of waiting children.

"Baba!" 

The tips of Johnny’s ears flash hot. Maybe if he stands absolutely, perfectly still—

"Johnny."

Fuck. Apparently _Jurassic Park_ rules do not apply to hot dads. He turns around. "Hi, Mr Qian."

Kun smiles at him through the window of his incredibly appropriate family-sized fuel efficient vehicle. Those damned butterflies start up again. "Hi, Johnny." He pauses for a second, and then says, "Listen— I know this isn't the time—”

 _Oh god_ , Johnny thinks. _This is where he tells me he's gonna sue me and my kid for emotional damages._

"—but I was wondering if I could get your number."

The clouds part. The hallelujah chorus fills the air. 

"I know this weekend sort of went pear-shaped,” Kun continues, “but I was hoping we could try setting up another playdate for Yangyang and Donghyuck."

The hallelujah chorus hits a flat note but keeps playing.

"Of course," Johnny says. He feels a little woozy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [original thread](https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1197946276450623488?s=20)   
>  [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/kittyong/)   
>  [curiouscat](https://www.curiouscat.me/teddykun)   
> 


	2. naive melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny closes the door and it sinks in: he's alone with Kun's kids for the day. The wild, irrational, vaguely horny side of his brain thinks, _Step-dad trial run,_ before he can properly rein it in but he immediately shakes the thought out of his head. Now he's _really_ being ridiculous.
> 
> Kun is a friend. 
> 
> A hot, charming friend that Johnny wants to bone.
> 
> But a friend nonetheless.

“Donghyuck. Sunshine, angel, light of my life, fruit of my loom. I love you more than life itself but if you don’t finish your cereal in the next five minutes I'm throwing it down the sink.”

Hyuck looks regally offended from atop his throne of couch cushions. “But it’s Saturday.”

Johnny purses his lips. “Okay, counterpoint: I told Yangyang’s dad he could drop the boys off around twelve. _And_ , you’ve been eating that bowl of cereal for, like, thirty minutes. That’s super gross, dude.”

Hyuck turns his nose up. “I like it soggy,” he says primly. 

God. His kid is so fucking cute. Johnny leaves a kiss on top of Hyuck’s rumpled bed head as he walks behind the couch on his way into the kitchen. “You got five minutes, kid.”

It’s fucking spotless in the kitchen. Johnny grabs his Mr Clean Magic Eraser and starts looking for something to clean. He’s not sure if it’s being raised in the upper middle class American Midwest or some other deep-seated genetic impulse inherited from his mother but he can’t stop cleaning his _fucking_ house.

Today is the Qian’s ( _Kun’s_ ) first time visiting the Suh home and the thought of Kun coming into his domestic sphere is really rocking Johnny’s world. Till now, playdates and meetups have happened on neutral turf. He's not sure why it feels so different.

He’s fucking crazy, is why. Although the second playdate was only marginally less disastrous than the first on the Yanghyuck front, Hyuckie and Chenle got along surprisingly well so the two dads redoubled their efforts (Johnny, admittedly, a bit selfishly so). The addition of some of Hyuck’s friends to their playdates did wonders for improving Hyuck and Yangyang’s friendship. They’re almost _too_ close now. Sometimes Johnny thinks that he and Kun have created a two-headed chaos beast—three-headed when Jaemin comes along. 

When Johnny first met Kun he figured he would just be one of those people that you meet once and think about sort of wistfully; just a hot dad to play house with in his brain. But their little families have become regularly recurring cast members in one another’s lives. Johnny _knows_ Kun now; knows that the little milk candies he always carries in his pockets are for himself, not his kids; knows that he loves his new job but he kind of misses his old one; knows that he pretends to be an amateur with a camera but has an innate eye for composition. 

That kind of _knowing_ fucking terrifies Johnny. It’s one thing to have a crush on a hot guy you’ll only see for fifteen minutes every nine weeks. It’s another thing to be kind of, maybe, actually— like, sort of… in like?

Johnny full-body shudders and scrubs harder at the tile grout. 

The chime of the doorbell sends a bizarre combination shiver-thrill through him like an electric current. It also startles him so badly that he fumbles the magic eraser.

Distantly, Hyuck's voice belts out an unholy screech: "YANGYANG AND CHENLE."

Those fucking butterflies in his stomach. Johnny stands up, shaking his bleach-wrinkled hands and looking around desperately for something to dry his hands on that won't be ruined by the bleach. He catches sight of himself in the reflection of the microwave and huffs out a harried laugh at how frazzled he looks. _It's just Kun_ , he reminds himself. Kun won't care how clean his grout is.

His brain goblin throws it right back at him. _It's_ Kun, it whispers. You _care_.

A trio of hollers from the entryway spurs him back into action. Seems like Hyuck took it upon himself to open the door. 

Sure enough, when he rounds the corner (fuck, his hands are still bleachy) the three boys are tumbling one over another across the threshold.

“Slow, slow!” Johnny laughs, dodging each kid one at a time. “Hyuckie, be careful! And change out of your pjs, bud.”

He looks up at Kun. It's noon but in direct defiance to all laws of physics Kun somehow looks absolutely lovely in the direct sunlight. He's done something different with his hair. It’s a little lighter, the tone a little honeyed. Johnny’s heart does somersaults at the way Kun’s whole face opens up when he smiles at Johnny.

“You dodged those kids like an Olympian,” Kun teases. The corners of his eyes crinkle up. 

A stupid grin takes over Johnny’s face. He can _feel_ how stupid it looks and yet try as he might, he can’t wipe it off his ugly mug. “They should award me the Heisman.” _Oh my god. Stupid joke._ He strikes the pose from the trophy and immediately wants to die. _Oh. My. God._

Kun laughs but his eyebrows wrinkle in the middle. “I'm sorry, I don’t know what that is. The high’s man?”

“It’s—" _Take the out, Suh._ “Sorry, it’s a football thing.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I'm being goofy.”

The corners of Kun’s eyes crinkle again. “Don’t apologise,” he hums. “I like goofy.” 

Johnny basks in the glow of that for a moment— _I like goofy_ —and then Kun shifts his weight from one foot to another and he immediately wants to smack himself. “Oh,” he says, stepping to one side of the doorway. “Come inside, please.”

Kun raises the hand holding his keys and waves it in denial of the invitation. "Ah, actually, I've really got to go. I'm already running late. Chenle kept making me take off his shoes to smooth out the wrinkles in his socks."

Johnny resolutely refuses to be disappointed. "Where are you headed?"

Kun sighs. "Company retreat. I pleaded the single father amendment and managed to talk my boss down to letting me come for a half day but I'm expected to make an appearance for 'office morale' or something." He grins, looking just like Yangyang does when he’s up to no good. "Hopefully I'll sprain my ankle in the first game and get benched for the day."

Johnny raises his eyebrows. "I thought you liked sports."

"I like exercising," Kun clarifies. "I'm less fond of getting wailed on with pool noodles by entry-level marketing staff."

Johnny nods, pretending like that doesn't sound like a lot of fun. There's a reason he teaches elementary school.

"Thank you again for watching the boys for the day," Kun says. "I know this isn't really what we usually do. I feel kind of bad asking you to babysit your own students on your day off. My usual sitter got sick and I couldn't find anyone else on such short notice."

“Oh, please, don't worry about it." Johnny waves a hand. "Seriously, babysitting is way more fun than what I do during the week. And your kids are angels." 

Right on cue, a Chenle-shriek reverberates from the depths of the house, quickly followed by a loud thump. Both dads go tense for a few worrying seconds of silence. Finally, a peal of laughter releases the 'at-ease' signal and they simultaneously relax. 

Kun's smile twists into a grin. "I think we've come far enough in our relationship to be past lying to one another about how well-behaved our children are."

The butterflies in Johnny's stomach stir again at the words 'our relationship'. "Okay, yeah," he concedes. "All three of those little crotch goblins are total squirts. But I also spend my nine to five trying to teach a minimum of ten five–to–eleven–year–olds at a time, so I'm pretty much a pro-level squirt wrangler at this point."

Kun smirks. "Crotch goblins, huh?" 

God, when is he going to put Johnny out of his misery and just leave for work already?

"Do you wanna say bye real quick before you go?" Johnny asks, already turning to call for the boys because, really, it goes without saying that Kun wants to say bye before he goes. 

The Qian boys careen around the corner and catapult themselves into their dad's arms, giving him hasty farewell kisses (Yangyang lingers a little longer to solemnly double check that Kun will, in fact, be returning for them at some point and then to demand a second kiss _and_ hug). Then they vanish back into the house, presumably to rejoin Hyuckie, and Johnny sees the familiar ghost of separation anxiety cross Kun's face. 

"Remember that Chenle can't eat too much dairy,” he says, eyes on the point down the hall where his kids disappeared. “And Yangyang will try to convince you he's allergic to vegetables but it's not true. And—" 

Johnny listens to five minutes' worth of Kun's laundry list of last minute reminders before he finally gets the man to leave. He's certain the guy is gonna be a half-hour late to his retreat at this point.

The door closes and it sinks in: he's alone with Kun's kids for the day. The wild, irrational, vaguely horny side of his brain thinks, _Step-dad trial run,_ before he can properly rein it in but he immediately shakes the thought out of his head. Now he's _really_ being ridiculous.

Kun is a friend. 

A hot, charming friend that Johnny wants to bone.

But a friend nonetheless. And his kids aren't dolls that he's lent Johnny to play dress-up with for the day, nor are they bargaining chips in some crazy, Freudian id-driven seduction game that only exists in Johnny's lizard brain. They're amazing, clever, funny little humans. And really, they were Johnny's charges at school long before he ever met Kun. This isn't any different. It's no more or less significant than taking care of them during class.

Johnny tells himself this over and over again but he can't shake the nervous feeling in his gut. It's silly. He hasn't been this nervous to talk to six-year-olds since his first day on the job and that was, what, like five years ago?

Hyuck pokes his head around the corner, interrupting Johnny’s thoughts. He's still in his pjs with the addition of his dress-up Peter Pan hat. "Daddy, come be the allergator." 

"It's a crocodile, dude."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "Same thing." He lowers his voice to a whisper—which for Hyuck is essentially normal talking volume—to add, "But you have to let Lele kill you cause he's Cap'n Hook and he's little."

Okay. Playtime is easy. Playtime Johnny can do. 

The boys run him into the ground reenacting the big crocodile fight scene from _Peter Pan_ , featuring Donghyuck as Peter Pan, Yangyang as a make-believe amalgamation of one of Wendy's brothers and his favorite Lost Boys, and Chenle giving a passionate rendition of Captain Hook. 

Johnny gets killed and resurrects, like, twice before Yangyang and Hyuck exhaust their max consecutive get-along minutes and start bickering over who gets to be Peter Pan. In order to circumvent any fisticuffs, Johnny sends Hyuck to his room to finally change out of his pjs. In the meantime, Chenle hitches a ride on Johnny's shoulders into the living room for a quick movie break so Johnny has a chance to make everybody a little meal as a distraction. Yangyang follows but he is _very_ vocal about the fact that he isn't happy about the turn of events. Johnny turns on _The Great Mouse Detective_ with subtitles and they both shut up pretty quick, tumbling into a puppy pile on the stack of cushions Hyuck had constructed earlier in the day for his Saturday morning cereal-and-cartoons ritual as the adventures of Basil suck them in. 

He retreats to the kitchen for a breather (God, is he old now? Is he getting too old to roughhouse?) and glances up as Hyuck pads through on socked feet en route to the living room. "Hey, sunshine."

"Hey, Daddy!"

Johnny rolls his eyes. "No, I meant hey, like, hey, stop and listen." 

Hyuck's eyes go big. "Am I in trouble?"

"Nah, not really." He sighs. "Just, remember to share your things, okay? Be sweet and play right."

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool." Johnny taps one finger on the counter. "And what's our stance on hitting?"

"Um, only if I'm bein' kidnapped." 

"Right. So we should definitely never hit our friends."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes (for, like, the second or third time today which makes Johnny wonder exactly where he's learning this sassy shit from). "Um, _yeah_ , Daddy. Hitting is totally mean." 

"Cool." Johnny gazes into the cabinet. "You want something to eat while you watch your movie, kiddo?"

"PBJ, please."

"Dope. Thanks for getting dressed like I asked."

"Welcome!" Hyuck chirps, hurrying through to the living room as the voices from the TV start to escalate. 

There's a soothing sort of rhythm to making PB&J's that Johnny really enjoys. He lets himself relax into the ritual of it all: washing his hands, pulling out the ingredients, arranging his work station, all while listening with half his brain to the movie just down the hall. He's swiping peanut butter onto the first piece of bread when something—maybe a sound, or movement at the corner of his eye, or maybe just an innate dad instinct—makes him glance over his shoulder.

Yangyang leans in the doorway, one hand twisting in the hem of his t-shirt while he chews on the fingers of the other. "Hey, Yangyang," Johnny greets. "What's up?"

The six-year-old takes his fingers out of his mouth to answer, "I don't like the movie." His voice is small, his eyes wide and posture subdued in a way that has Johnny's caregiver senses tingling.

Johnny nods, turning back to the sandwich casually. "Yeah, I don't really either." He hums and adds, almost as though to himself, "I think the rat is kinda scary."

Yangyang's answering "yeah" is so tiny that Johnny's heart breaks and knits itself back together. 

Keeping up his casual front, Johnny shrugs. "If you wanna hang with me, that's cool." He pulls out one of the barstools with his foot. "Come pop a squat."

Yangyang hesitates for a moment, then shuffles over and clambers up onto the stool. "What are you doin'?"

"Making some PB&J's. Wanna help?"

A shy nod. Johnny nudges the open jars and the loaf of bread over so they’re within Yangyang’s reach and gives him a plate to start building on. He’s just started in on the first PB&J when Yangyang’s voice chimes in softly at his elbow.

“Um, Mr Suh?” 

“What’s up?”

Yangyang shrugs. The butter knife in his hand wobbles back and forth, unbalanced in his clumsy baby hands.

Oh. Duh. It's too easy for Johnny to forget which skills normal six-year-olds have or have not learned. He wipes his hands on his apron. “Want some help?” 

With careful hands, he shows Yangyang the best way to hold and handle the butter knife, demonstrates his method for spreading the tricky, sticky peanut butter, and reveals his ultimate secret:

“Peanut butter on both slices, jelly on one slice. It’s the perfect ratio.” 

The little boy wrinkles his nose. “That’s too much peanut butter,” he objects. “Baba only does one slice of each.”

“Yeah, well, this PB&J recipe has been passed down through my family for generations,” teases Johnny. “You can’t argue with tradition, Yangyang. Try a bite.” 

Yangyang takes a huge chomp out of the example PB&J they made together and chews for a long time, contemplating the taste with the utmost seriousness. Finally, he smacks his tongue against his gums and announces: “It's good.” 

Johnny should probably not be so thoroughly invested in the opinion of a first grader, but Yangyang’s praise sets him aglow. “You wanna make one of your own? I'll show you how to cut them into bear shapes.”

Yangyang nods, eagerly grabbing the peanut butter knife. They make another PB&J apiece and then Johnny makes two more while Yangyang is distracted perfecting the ear shapes on his sandwich.

“That’s a good looking bearwich, sous chef,” Johnny comments with a low whistle, peering over Yangyang’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Yangyang agrees, lifting the butter knife away from the sandwich to scrutinise his masterpiece. “It’s a baby bear for Lele.” He pokes his index finger deep into the soft wheat bread to make an eye hole. Johnny winces. “Thank you for showing me how to make them, Mr Suh.” 

“Of course.” Johnny ruffles Yangyang’s hair as the kid sinks his finger back into the sandwich to make the second eye. “And… you can call me Johnny while we’re not at school, if you want.”

Yangyang sucks his fingertip into his mouth to clean off a glob of jelly. “Okay.” 

(And really, if he had been paying attention, that should’ve been the moment that Johnny _really_ knew he was fucked. It’s one thing to be crushing on your hot dad friend but it’s another thing entirely when you go all ooey gooey head over heels for the man’s _kids_ , too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [original thread](https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1197946276450623488?s=20)   
>  [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/kittyong/)   
>  [curiouscat](https://www.curiouscat.me/teddykun)   
> 


	3. what i can't have (all i want)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny puts a hand on Chenle’s little shoulder for just a quick second. “Hey, baby bear. You okay?” he asks in Mandarin, using his softest, gentlest nursery voice. “Did you get a little bump?”
> 
> Chenle’s eyes fly open. His tears immediately redouble when he lays eyes on Johnny. He reaches out with both little mittened paws in the universal body language for ‘I need to be held’ and wails, “Daddy.”
> 
> Johnny’s heart twists hard in his chest.

It’s a rare thing that Johnny ends up on playground duty. Usually, he’s either cramming carrot sticks and hummus into his mouth, frantically rearranging his lesson plans, or fielding phone calls from his students’ parents. Today, however, Miss Holland got a call from her roommate that her cat had swallowed a lip gloss and Johnny agreed to cover her recess shift while she ran off to take care of it.

It’s cold as balls outside but watching the kindergarteners run around in circles is kind of fun. Plus, the other two recess monitors are both keeping pretty close to Johnny, which blocks the wind nicely. He wonders if they know he has a kid. They almost certainly don’t know that he’s been in love-love with his students’ dad for roughly four months based on the way they’re laughing at his shitty jokes.

Everything is normal—Johnny is telling a story about the time Donghyuck ate a stick of butter when he was a toddler while Miss Mount twirls her hair around her finger—and then a bloody scream comes from the direction of the swing sets. Both women immediately start jogging over to the scene of the incident: there’s a little lump of bundled up kid curled up on the ground near the swings. A few kindergarteners stand around the bright blue coat.

Johnny’s gut bottoms out. That bright blue coat looks a lot like Chenle’s bright blue coat. 

He tells himself that he shouldn’t run over. At least one teacher should hang back and watch the other kids. His eyes stay glued on the motionless little figure. All of a sudden, he’s hot inside his coat. 

Over by the swings, the teachers shoo the rubberneckers back and kneel on the ground, blocking Chenle from Johnny’s view. He fiddles with the whistle around his neck, doing his best to transmute his anxiety into something—anything.

God, he wants to be over there. 

After what feels like ages, Miss Mount gets to her feet and starts walking back towards Johnny. He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries not to physically vibrate from impatience.

She barely reaches him before he asks, “What happened?” 

The teacher gestures back towards the swings. “He won’t speak English. We can’t understand what he’s saying but he’s hysterical, so I came to—”

Johnny shoves the whistle into her hands before she can finish and sets off, scarcely containing himself to a jog instead of a sprint. As he draws closer, the sound of Chenle crying reaches his ears. He's been reduced to those hard, short sobs that only happen when he’s really upset.

Chenle usually isn’t a big crier. One of Johnny’s hands slips into the pocket holding his cell phone as he jogs. He needs Kun.

Miss Blair sees him coming and moves aside with a look of relief. “Look, Chenle,” she says, patting the boy’s back over his coat. “Mr Suh is here.”

He takes a knee, strategically shielding Chenle from the stares of the nearby gawkers. “You wanna ask those guys what happened?" he asks Miss Blair. She nods and heads over to take the other kids aside so they have a tiny shred of privacy.

Johnny puts a hand on Chenle’s little shoulder for just a quick second. “Hey, baby bear. You okay?” he asks in Mandarin, using his softest, gentlest nursery voice. “Did you get a little bump?”

Chenle’s eyes fly open. His tears immediately redouble when he lays eyes on Johnny. He reaches out with both little mittened paws in the universal body language for ‘I need to be held’ and wails, “Daddy.”

Johnny’s heart twists hard in his chest. He swallows past the lump in his throat and gently fends off Chenle’s hands. He's hyper-aware of his colleagues nearby. “I'm sorry, Chenle. I can’t pick you up right now.”

Chenle keeps reaching up, tugging feebly at Johnny’s jacket in an attempt to bring him closer. “Daddy,” he whimpers again. Two fat tears roll down his chubby baby cheeks. He's unbearably cute. Johnny wants to wrap him up and never let him go.

“Chenle,” he repeats, more stern this time for both of their sakes. “Remember to call me Mr Suh when we’re at school.” The kindergartener bursts into a fresh wave of tears. Johnny pretty much feels like the shittiest person in the world.

“Do you need to go to the nurse? Are you hurt?” he touches Chenle’s head carefully to check for bumps. It’s the most he can do but it’s _something_. There's a goose egg quickly rising near his temple but his head doesn’t seem to be bleeding. When Chenle lifts his hands again, Johnny sees that the palms of his mittens are ripped up and stained with blood.

“Okay, buddy,” Johnny soothes. “I'm gonna take you to the nurse.” He lets Miss Blair know where they’re going and coaxes a still-crying Chenle onto his feet. They hobble back into the school, Johnny guiding Chenle with a hand on the back of his coat.

The hallways are empty. Chenle’s sobs echo off the tile. Johnny feels like crying, too.

When they reach the nurse’s office, she’s busy with someone throwing up in the private bathroom, so she waves Johnny towards the first aid kit on the counter.

Johnny finally— _finally_ —scoops Chenle into his arms to boost him up onto the paper-covered exam table. Chenle’s arms immediately go around his neck. Johnny feels his shirt go damp as Chenle buries his messy face into the crook of his shoulder.

The knot in Johnny’s chest pulls tighter. He bounces the boy in his arms a little, trying to loosen his grip. “Come on, Chenle, you’re okay.” The little boy’s body spasms as he hiccups into the safe haven of Johnny’s shirt collar. Glancing at the preoccupied nurse, Johnny gives Chenle a quick squeeze. “You’re good,” he hums, turning his nose into Chenle’s Johnson & Johnson-soft hair. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” 

Miraculously, Chenle’s arms loosen a fraction. Johnny pries the boy away from his neck and situates him atop the parade-of-animals printed sanitary paper along with the first aid kit. “Let’s get you all fixed up, yeah?” he says, helping Chenle pull off his bulky coat. 

The boy’s knees and ankles are fine—saved by his thick socks and pants—but his mittens are destroyed. Beneath them, Chenle’s palms are scraped up and raw from catching the brunt of his fall on the rough asphalt. The bump on his head has begun to swell in earnest, too. 

Johnny peels the mittens off gingerly and retrieves a cold gel pack from the nurse’s mini-fridge. Chenle holds it to his head with one hand while Johnny goes to work caring for the other. The moment the first aid kit opens, Chenle’s tears begin to slow as he becomes distracted by all the fancy tools. By the time Johnny’s come around to disinfecting his scrapes, he’s wound down to a pitiful sniffle.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Johnny asks. 

“He kicked me,” Chenle says, whimpering at the sting of the disinfectant. “In the head.”

“On purpose or accident?”

“Assident.”

Good. Johnny won’t have to beat up any five-year-olds today. “Who was it?” Chenle shrugs. He still hasn’t learned some of the non-ESL kids’ names. “And you’re sure he wasn’t being mean?”

“No, Daddy, jus’ swingin’.”

There it is again. Johnny’s pulse jumps to his throat. He focuses on applying a Peppa Pig band-aid to Chenle’s palm. “Chenle.” He sighs. “You know I'm not your daddy, right?” 

“You’re Hyuckie’s daddy.”

The knot in Johnny’s chest moves to his stomach. “Yeah, I am. But Baba is your daddy.”

Chenle frowns. “Baba is my baba. You’re Daddy.” 

“I'm—'' Johnny's voice catches. He has to clear his throat a few times. “I'm Mr Suh when we’re at school. And I'm Johnny when we’re playing. Okay?”

Chenle doesn’t like that. “But Hyuckie gets to call you ‘Daddy’ and I want to call you ‘Daddy’, too. Why can’t I call you ‘Daddy?’” 

God, Johnny is so over his fucking head. He needs Kun. “Just—” He takes the cold pack from Chenle for a moment so he can switch hands. “Please call me Mr Suh when we’re at school, okay? It’s important. Can you do that for me?”

Chenle shrugs, still frowning. “Okay.”

Johnny finishes caring for Chenle’s little injuries in relative quiet. The walk to Chenle’s classroom is quiet, too. When they reach the class, Johnny can hear Miss Holland's reading-aloud voice through the closed door. He pauses and turns to Chenle. “Feeling good, Lele?”

Chenle stares at the door for a moment before looking up at Johnny with wide, beseeching puppy dog eyes. “Can I stay with you?”

_Fuck. If only._ Johnny puts on his most encouraging smile. “And miss out on Miss Holland’s story? No way!” Chenle looks skeptical but he doesn’t protest further when Johnny knocks on the door.

As soon as Chenle safely returns to his class, Johnny makes a beeline for his own classroom. He's only got a few minutes left on his lunch.

Just enough time to call Kun.

“Hello?” The relief that washes over Johnny at the sound of Kun’s voice on the other end of the line is so instantaneous that he almost starts crying.

He doesn’t. But it’s a close thing.

“Kun,” he says. His voice does _not_ wobble. “It’s Johnny.”

“Is everything okay?”

Johnny closes his eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Um.”

Kun’s tone morphs from pre-panic into something easier. Sweeter. Warm like honey. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Johnny takes a deep breath. “Uh, Chenle had a little spill on the playground.”

The alarm comes back in full force. “What?!”

“He’s fine, just a few bumps and bruises, but I fixed him up real good with the first aid kit.” He picks at a sticker Hyuck left on the drawer of his desk. “Actually—”

“What’s wrong? Was he fighting or something? Is he in trouble?”

“No, no.” God. He’s just gonna have to say it, isn’t he? “Um… I was taking care of him on the playground and he was crying pretty hard and he, uh, called me ‘Daddy.’”

Johnny squeezes his eyes shut. There’s a long beat of silence over the phone. And then:

“Oh.” Johnny opens his eyes but he can’t seem to make them focus on anything in the second beat of silence that follows. Finally, Kun speaks again. “I'm sorry he’s made you uncomfortable. I'll talk to him.”

“I'm not—” Johnny grabs a fistful of his hair. The formal tone he can hear reclaiming Kun’s voice stresses him out. “He didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just, you know—” 

“I understand,” Kun interrupts him. “It’s not appropriate. It’s been a long time since he had anyone in his life other than me.” There’s a third pause, shorter but not easier. “It was selfish of me to not have a discussion with him about it sooner. I'm sorry for putting you in this position.”

The knot that relocated to Johnny’s stomach turns into a wave of nausea. “It really wouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s just, you know, when we’re at school, I'm his teacher and— you know, I can’t be picking him up or—” 

“I get it. There are professional boundaries that can’t be crossed.”

Johnny pushes his hair back. He loathes everything about this conversation. “Yeah,” he replies lamely, more to avoid another horrible silence than anything else. 

“Your lunch is ending, right? I'll let you get back to work.” Kun’s voice clips the end of every word short the same way it does when he gets a call from the office while he’s supposed to be off-duty. “Thank you for letting me know.” 

“Of course.” Johnny sighs. “Kun— I hope this won’t affect our personal relationship. It’s really— I adore Chenle. That'll never— that hasn’t changed.” Johnny swallows. His tongue sits too big in his mouth. “Yangyang, too.” _And you,_ his brain adds unhelpfully. 

“Oh.” Kun sounds a little surprised, as though it should be obvious. “My boys love Donghyuck. He’s their best friend. I wouldn’t dream of separating them.”

“Yeah.” The edges of Johnny’s chest ache. “Me neither.” 

There’s the slightest of awkward pauses before Kun says something roundabout about letting Johnny get back to work that Johnny translates to mean ‘I'm running an entire department and I have a lot to do, so if we’re done here…’ They exchange an overly cordial farewell. Kun hangs up first.

Johnny drops his phone onto his desk and stares at Kun’s contact page until a chorus of voices chattering in a mish-mash of bubbly Mandarin, Korean, and Spanish travels down the hall heralding his next class. 

Phone calls with Kun are supposed to make Johnny feel better. He just feels fucking miserable.

The remainder of the school day passes in a haze. Amazing how one little slip-up can change the whole day.

About halfway through his final class, Johnny remembers that he has to go by the Qian house to pick up all three of the kids and relieve the after-school sitter. It’s a fairly new thing that he and Kun agreed upon. Johnny and Kun split the sitter fee, the kids spend a third of the time under the care of the sitter as they used to, and Johnny doesn’t have to drive halfway across the city to pick Hyuck up from the after-school daycare. They’ve been giving it a trial run for a few weeks and it’s going great so far. But— 

It also means that Johnny will inevitably see Kun today and even though he’s an adult and will, ultimately, be fine and handle himself maturely, he just... _really_ doesn’t wanna. 

If he drags his feet a little in getting his things in order after the last bell rings, who’s gonna know? He’s been needing to catch up on grading, anyway. He ends up staring down at Yangyang’s city-country words worksheet for five minutes without even lifting his pen. He can’t seem to get past the clumsy letters along the name line: _QIAN_.

When he pulls up outside the Qian home, he takes a full minute to hype himself up before he lets himself in through the side door.

“Where are all my favorite boys?” he calls, toeing off his shoes and adding them to the pile near the door. He stops a moment, caught by the sight of the haphazard mix of shoes: his oxfords and Hyuck’s velcro tennies amid the jumble of the Qians’ shoes—Chenle’s sneakers with the light-up basketballs, Yangyang’s mini skate highs, Kun’s ratty running shoes. 

Yangyang comes skidding around the corner and breaks into his thoughts with a holler. “Johnny!” The kid scrabbles for traction on the wood floor as he tries to take the sharp corner. “Ten’s gonna get me!” 

Johnny does his best slo-mo dramatic “ _Nooooo_ ” and scoops Yangyang up under one arm. The little boy’s giggling lifts his heart. “We have to fight back!”

He play-runs down the hall and around the corner into the Qians’ family room. Yangyang shrieks with laughter, kicking his little socked feet and waving fists in the air. “Get ‘em! Let’s get ‘em!”

On the sectional, the sitter looks up from his phone at Johnny’s entrance. “If you come near me with Yangyang’s peanut butter fingers I'll kick both your butts.” 

“Johnny,” Yangyang whispers between giggles. His feet kick in midair. “Launch me, launch me.”

“Prepare for launch,” Johnny says in his best astronaut voice. “Ignition sequence start in six, five, four…” 

Ten glares at them over the top of his phone. “Uh-uh. No.”

Johnny starts to do a slow spin. “Three… two…”

Ten stands up, abandoning his phone. “ _No_.”

“... _ONE_!” Johnny flings Yangyang into Ten’s chest and both the babysitter and the baby fall back onto the couch in a heap. 

“Get off of me. Get off!” Ten's voice is muffled beneath a full layer of boy.

Yangyang wiggles on top of Ten, hollering something about world domination. Johnny laughs, already a little breathless from playing, and reaches in to pull Yangyang away from Ten. “Okay, dude. Uncle.”

Ten emerges from beneath Yangyang looking both extremely ruffled and extremely pissed off. “You have to pay me extra,” he huffs, straightening his glasses. “For emotional damages.”

Johnny releases Yangyang. “Yeah, whatever.” Johnny ruffles a hand through Yangyang’s hair. “Go get your— uh, go get the others for me, okay? Don’t forget your backpacks, too.” Yangyang scampers off in the direction of the boys’ playroom.

Ten narrows his eyes at Johnny in a way no college student should be allowed to look at him, ever, like he’s looking right through Johnny’s facade and flipping through his secret thoughts like a gossip rag. “Is everything okay?” he asks. 

Johnny puts on his best innocent face. “As far as I know. Why?”

Ten purses his lips. “I got a text from Kun during my last class asking if I’d be free to stay late for the rest of the week.” He crosses his arms. “Are you guys weird right now or something? What happened?” 

“We’re not—” A blush blooms on the back of Johnny’s neck, betraying him. “We’re not weird, I just—” Ten raises his eyebrows. It’s the fatal blow. Johnny sighs and steels himself to spill his guts. “Something happened at school today and when I told Kun about it, I think it freaked him out,” he confesses, keeping his voice low in case of little ears lurking. “And now I'm not sure where we stand.” 

Ten nods, tapping his phone against his chin thoughtfully. “Do you want me to snoop?”

“What?”

“You know, some strategic prying?” The sitter shrugs. “Me and Kun are tight. I’d totally do some digging for you if you wanted.” 

Johnny makes a sound of dissent. “I don’t know how I feel about you getting your little paws in our personal lives.”

“Oh, please.” Ten rolls his eyes. “I'm not offering to matchmake, for Christ’s sake, I was just gonna ask Kun for his side of the story.” 

As tempting as it is to allow Ten to do his dirty work for him— “No,” Johnny sighs. “I need to just nut up and do it myself.”

Right on cue, the boys appear, Yangyang bringing up the rear with both Qian backpacks. “Johnny, what does ‘nut up’ mean?” he asks in English. 

Johnny manages to get all three of them home without ever having to answer Yangyang’s question. He also manages to get them through their homework and start some semblance of dinner before Kun gets home. His productivity is likely thanks in no small part to the anxiety that gnaws at his stomach as he watches the numbers on the clock slowly crawl upwards, ever onwards towards The Talk he knows he has to have with Kun.

Finally (dreadfully) the doorbell rings.

“Baba!” Chenle cheers. Johnny’s gut twists but he’s glad to hear the happiness return to Chenle’s voice. The little boy has been subdued around Johnny all evening and the house feels lopsided without his laughter in it.

He scarcely opens the door before Kun blurts out, “Sorry it took so long.” 

Johnny leaves the door open as an invitation to enter and walks back towards the kitchen. “No worries,” he says. “I just started some chicken? I don’t know what we’ll have it in or with, but. There will be chicken.” He’s trying too hard to be casual but it’s better than the alternative. 

“Actually,” Kun’s voice draws Johnny up short, “I was gonna take my boys home for dinner tonight.” He shifts his weight uneasily. “I'm sure we’ve both had a long day. You’re probably ready to get us out of your hair.”

Johnny twists the dishtowel in his hands. “Not at all.” He takes a deep breath. _Now or never, Suh._ “Speaking of which, I think we oughta talk about it. Just you and I,” Johnny proposes. A caged-animal look passes over Kun’s face but Johnny sets his jaw and soldiers on. “I would like to. In-person.”

Kun takes a moment to respond but when he does, it’s with a small nod. “Okay,” he sighs. “I actually… agree.”

Johnny smiles and turns, opening up his body language to beckon Kun into the kitchen. “Let’s see about that chicken first, yeah?” 

Dinner is stiffer than usual. The boys must sense something is off because they’re extra chatty, regaling Kun and Johnny with stories and fun facts and knock-knock jokes. It makes it easier to hide the fact that Johnny and Kun can hardly make eye contact, let alone speak to each other. After they finish eating, Kun corrals the kids into Donghyuck’s room to pop in a DVD while Johnny cleans up.

When he hears the click of the bedroom door closing down the hall, his palms start sweating in some kind of crazy Pavlovian anxiety response. Kun appears at the sink next to him and starts helping him with the dishes without a word. They wash in silence while Johnny fights the knot that has migrated from his stomach to his throat and is currently wiring his jaw shut. 

Finally, he clears his throat. “Kun, I—”

“Johnny—”

They both stutter to a stop and then laugh, sheepish.

“Go ahead,” Johnny concedes. He doesn’t really even know where to begin, anyway. ‘ _Kun, I think I like-like you_?’ ‘ _Your reaction to the thought of me as a permanent part of your life hurt my feelings_?' 

“Johnny,” Kun begins again, voice low so the running water masks his words from any little eavesdroppers, “I'm really glad that our families have become so close. You’ve been a real blessing to me and the boys over the past few months.” Johnny feels a ‘but’ coming. “But—” There it is. “I think maybe in our happiness of finding new friendships, we’ve… neglected to establish some boundaries.” Kun’s lips flatten into a thin line. “Both of us have.”

The fault is implied: ‘ _My son called you Daddy but you never really discouraged him, either_.’ Johnny clears his throat. “If my behavior with Yangyang and Chenle has been inappropriate, I'm so sorry. I assure you that—”

“No, no, I… You’re very good to them.” A chisel mark appears between Kun’s brows. The only other time Johnny has seen that chisel mark is when Kun gets severely stuck on the Sunday sudoku. “It’s more like…” Kun shakes his head. “My first priority will always be the safety of my sons— Ah, safety isn’t the right word. Maybe well-being?” He sighs, frustrated. The knot in Johnny’s throat swells until he almost can’t breathe around it. 

Kun puts down the plate he’s drying. Johnny looks at him in the reflection of the window over the sink. The other man’s eyes are fixed on the little aloe vera plant that sits on the sill. “Yangyang and Chenle are all I have. And I'm all that they have.” Kun pauses, and then continues, “They’re so young, and they’ve already been through so much, especially Yangyang. I just… have to be mindful of that when… you know, when bringing people into their lives.”

The tap runs between them but neither of them even pretend to wash dishes anymore. “If I allow someone into their lives in— in _that way_ and let them get attached to that person and then— and then that person leaves and I have to explain to my sons that the person they thought would be forever isn’t gonna be around anymore…” Kun takes a deep, shaky breath. “I just can’t. I can't do that to them, not when they’ve already lost so much.” He shakes his head. “I'm so glad that you care so much for my kids. But my children come first, regardless of any of my own— personal desires. I know you understand that.” 

Johnny clears his throat very carefully, as softly as possible so as not to break the delicate, wavering _something_ hanging in the air around them. “What,” he murmurs, so quiet he can scarcely hear himself over the running water, “do you mean by personal desires?” 

“I mean…” Kun pauses, lips already parted on the next word. Johnny turns his head to look at Kun properly. He can’t help but think that the curve of Kun’s profile fits into his kitchen like a long-lost puzzle piece. “I mean I like you a lot, Johnny. You’re a great father and a great teacher.” Kun lowers his head. He worries at a loose thread on the cloth in his hands. “And a great friend. And I think we should take a step back.”

Johnny picks up the next plate in the sink. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s take a step back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [original thread](https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1197946276450623488?s=20)   
>  [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/kittyong/)   
>  [curiouscat](https://www.curiouscat.me/teddykun)   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [original thread](https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1197946276450623488?s=20)   
>  [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/kittyong/)   
>  [curiouscat](https://www.curiouscat.me/teddykun)   
> 


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